


Unsteady Hearts

by shoukixx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, I'll add more as I go along omg, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tags are so hard, Unrequited Crush, Yuuri POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoukixx/pseuds/shoukixx
Summary: Yuuri fell in love with Viktor. Somewhere along the way, his childish admiration for the man had turned into a full-blown, heart rendering crush. And Viktor inviting him back to Russia to 'get to know each other better' for 'skating purposes' doesn't help much either. Post episode 3





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I am so eager to join this fandom because YOI has literally destroyed me so of course I had to write something to express that. And the next episode is literally in like 24 hours but I can't wait ahhh!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Skating was always an escape for Yuuri, an isolating means by which he could leave behind the problems of his daily life, of being himself.

The ice was a stage for him; a place where he could change his face any time he wanted and be anything and anyone he wanted to be. It was where he could be the best version of himself for everyone to see, to admire. Ice skating was a convergence of physical beauty and technical skill that transformed him, setting his soul free and heart pounding.

But that’s what made the failure so devastating.

It was like the whole world had seen straight through his shoddy excuse of a mask and seen the real him – the real, anxious, unconfident Katsuki Yuuri that just wanted to shy away from the spotlight and hide in his room, eating guilty bowls of katsudon, the Katsuki Yuuri that would and could never _be_ or become anything.

Sochi crushed him.

He didn’t want to really go back to Hasetsu either. There were so many people there he knew he had let down, things he had left unsaid and undone for too long. His parents, his sister, Minako-sensei, Vicchan, Nishigori, the triplets, everyone who supported him, Yuuko.

_Yuuko._

He always knew, in the back of his mind, who her heart was set on and yet, he still held onto that childish ray of hope that maybe it was him; maybe for once in his life, something would go his way. She was always there to support him and help him along and encourage him, in skating and otherwise and he fervently wished she would continue to do so, that she would choose him.

But she didn’t.

The day she told him she had started dating Nishigori was the day he made up his mind to go to Detroit. What was left for him here? What reason would he have to stay? Who was left for him to skate for?

Like so many other times in his life, he used figure skating as an escape route; somewhere to bury himself so that he wouldn’t get hurt. So that he couldn’t feel the things inside that made it difficult to breathe and function.

So, after the wedding, he left. Over time, the pain dulled and facing it become easier. He could see Yuuko’s happiness with Nishigori and eventually, he found it in him to be happy for her too, for the both of them. His first, innocent love faded to an almost protective sibling-like comradery, though it took time.

And that’s what made Viktor so frustrating, so exhilarating, so painful, so captivating, so terrifying – the fact that he dug up all these buried emotions, laid it bare and forced Yuuri to deal with each and every one of them.

He made him feel things he hadn’t and didn’t want to feel; something he actively and blatantly rejected for almost five years.

He made him feel love.

Viktor made him _excited._

\---

“Morning, Yuuri.” Viktor was the first to greet Yuuri when he got back from his run, surprising him at the door. “You must be hungry. Katsuki-san has kindly prepared breakfast already. Would you like some?” he asked, settling down and offering some of his tamagoyaki.

His shiny, silver hair was sleep-mussed, his eyes bright like the May sky and his yukata sat wide open in that seductively default way Viktor wore it and Yuuri had to consciously keep his focus on the other’s face.

 _Does he even know how good he looks? It is_ way _too early for anyone to look this good…God…_

His mind wandered down forbidden lanes for a few seconds before he sternly reeled that train of thought back in. Swallowing thickly, he replied, “Ah, no, thank you. I…ate already.” The lie slipped out easily. Sliding his eyes away from the man in front of him, he busied himself with his shoes. “I’m going to go change.”

Hastily, he made his way upstairs, ignoring the almost forlorn “Yuuuuuri” that Viktor threw after him.

He didn’t know exactly when he realised that he liked Viktor. Maybe he had always liked him ever since the first time he saw him skating on TV, all those years ago.

Or maybe it was when he announced that he would be his coach, buck naked in the onsen, or maybe it was when he pulled him close, his breath fanning warmly and his touch burning on his lips as he asked Yuuri to show him his Eros.

Or maybe it was when he squeezed him ever so gently, so firmly after the Onsen On Ice, giving him that confidence he so desperately needed, if only for a moment.

Or maybe…

Maybe it was every time Viktor did anything and he realised he was just falling for him all over again.

But Yuuri knew he had to keep it controlled. He knew he had to bury this too so that he didn’t screw this up, like he did everything else. Objectively, he knew he _needed_ Viktor as a coach, to make him good enough to stand on that stage again and prove to the world that Katsuki Yuuri could be absolutely _brilliant_.

And…if these feelings got out in any way, if the public suspected, even for a moment, that he and Viktor were anything beyond coach, student and friends, that would pretty much mark the end of Viktor’s career.

And that was something Yuuri would never be able to live with.

Changing into clean practice clothes, he went back downstairs to the communal dining room where Viktor was finishing off his breakfast. The Russian perked up excitedly, offhandedly reminding Yuuri of Makkacchin when you brought out his food. “Yuuri! Here, here,” he said, patting the seat next to him. “I saved some for you! You just ran, you _must_ be hungry.”

“Um…” Yuuri hesitated, torn between his instant desire to say yes and the rational choice to say no. But before he could say anything, he was interrupted by his mother, who stuck her head out of the kitchen.

“Yuuri!” she called, beaming happily. “Welcome back. Here, come get your breakfast. I know you haven’t eaten yet and with all that training Viktor-chan is putting you through, you need the energy!” With another maternal smile, she disappeared back into the kitchen and Yuuri felt a cold sweat coming on.

He turned back around to face Viktor whose eyes had darkened suspiciously. “You said you already ate.”

“Eh…I’m going to go…” Yuuri gestured vaguely before making his escape, mentally cursing himself for telling such a uselessly terrible lie.

Carrying his tray back to the eating area, he paused before sitting down pointedly in front of Viktor. They both said nothing, the understanding of the lie passing easily between them, and Viktor, polite till the day he died, did not call it out.

That said, he definitely did not look pleased, either.

The meal went by in silence, punctuated only by the morning murmur of the inn as it woke to the new day and the occasional whimper from Makkacchin as Viktor petted him absent-mindedly. Yuuri was almost too scared to look up at his coach. The very uncharacteristic quiet unnerved him and he dreaded finishing breakfast.

As he lay his chopsticks down slowly, he wondered what he should say to remedy the situation. It wasn’t as though this was a majorly big issue just…very uncomfortable for both parties. He was still wrestling with a solution when Viktor spoke, his voice quiet.

“Yuuri…I…” he breathed in deeply. “As a coach, we need to have an open communication channel, yes? That is important for this to work.”

“Y-Yes…” Yuuri answered softly, slightly intimidated. “I-I understand.”

“Then why…” Viktor paused, noting his discomfort before sighing, his face troubled. “Have I done something, Yuuri?”

“Um…?”

“I get the feeling that you have been avoiding me recently. Ever since the competition, you…” He stopped, frowning. “Have I done something to upset you? I’m told I can be rather insensitive at times.” He became increasingly animated. “If I have, I would very much like to know. Was it the Eros thing? But Yuuri, you were fantastic in that! Even if your spread eagle to triple axel was appalling and the Salchow-”

Yuuri gaped momentarily at the worried concern on Viktor’s face. “N-No!” he shot back quickly, flailing his hands. “No, not at all! A-And don’t just casually slip in an insult like that!” He added as an afterthought and the Russian laughed, visibly relaxing. The air suddenly seemed easier to breathe in.

“I’m just…” Yuuri rolled the words over in his head, trying to find the right ones. “I’m still just trying to get used to…everything,” he said, praying it was a plausible enough excuse. “This is…I mean…we’re still pretty much strangers…A-and it’s hard…” He took a deep breath. “I-it takes a while for me to um, t-to open up…sometimes…”

A brief silence settled and Viktor cocked his head, the information working through his mind. “Hmm…I see. So…” he furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “We just…we just need to get to know each other better then! Then it won’t be awkward, right?” His eyes lit up and that delightfully childish smile graced his face.

“Err…I mean, I-I guess so but-“

Viktor was nodding fervently, already half tuned out of what Yuuri was saying. “Well, we definitely still have work to do, especially for the free program but you’ve been working very hard recently and I guess we could take a short break. It would still kind of be coaching so…hmm…yes! Yuuri! I’ve made up my mind!” Viktor scooted around the table excitedly. 

“We’re going to Russia!”

Yuuri blanched. “E-Eh….EHHH?! W-What? R-Russia? B-but…” His head spun, his mind switching to its default setting for dealing with unexpected situations - panic. He could barely comprehend what Viktor was saying to him and he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. “J-Just us? Alone? By ourselves?”

His coach seemed surprised for a moment before laughing. “Of course! Is there anyone else you’d like to bring?”

“M…Makkacchin?” Yuuri offered lamely, cursing himself for running his mouth without thinking.

“Oh, yes, of course! I can’t forget Makkacchin now, can I?” He leaned down, ruffling the dog’s face affectionately.

Yuuri’s mind whirred.

Being alone together in Russia was 100% not conducive to his decision to keep his feelings far, far away from Viktor and their…professional relationship (though he often questioned what exactly _Viktor_ defined as professional). If they were in Russia, they would probably be staying in Viktor’s flat and-

_Oh my god, I’ll be living in his apartment. Wait, if we live together, it would kind of be like we’re married right? Like…we would do all the things c-couples would do…_

His mind stumbled over the image that it conjured at the mention of couples and Yuuri felt a flush creep onto the tips of his ears. Shaking his head, he willed himself out of his fanciful imagination.

_HE IS STRICTLY MY COACH AND I AM STRICTLY HIS STUDENT. I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!!_

“So w-what would we do in Russia? If…if we’re going, I mean.” Yuuri asked quickly, trying desperately to take his mind off the path it was currently on.

“Hmm…” Viktor closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Well, I have learnt a lot about Japan but I don’t think you know very much about Russia! I could take you around St. Petersburg, do some tourist-y things, you know? We can use my home rink for practice, just when no one’s around,” he added easily, seeing Yuuri tense. “So we won’t be too behind in terms of skating. But I…” he paused, suddenly serious and he leaned a little closer, looking Yuuri softly in the eyes. He ran a hand slowly down Yuuri’s arm, tracing his way down to his hand and held his fingers gently, lifting them up to his lips. “I just want the both of us to get to know each other better. Will you come with me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri let out a soft, strangled whimper as Viktor kissed the back of his hand. His clear, blue eyes flicked up towards his black ones, looking at him pleadingly and Yuuri felt a shiver run through his body, pooling in his abdomen. Viktor held it there for just a fraction longer and quickly, Yuuri snatched his hand away, clutching it tight against his chest and breathed hard. “U-Um…”

“ _Please?_ ” Viktor dropped his voice, pitching it lower in a way that made it sound almost like a demand than a request, although that might just have been Yuuri’s mind on overdrive.

_Is sounding that sexy legal? Is…is that allowed? I- Oh my god…_

“It’s…it’s for skating, right? To make my skating better?” he asked tersely, nervously wringing his hands. He needed clarification.

“Of course!” Victor said cheerily.

Yuuri took a deep breath.

 “O…Okay then. I’ll go. F-For my skating.”

_Skating my ass. You’re so full of bullshit and you’re going to regret this so much._

Man, that voice inside his head was annoying.

\---

They arrived late in the night at almost 9pm.

“V-Viktor!” Yuuri stepped out of the airport, desperately trying to keep a visual on the silver hair that bobbed and weaved excitedly through the crowd. Thirteen hours on a plane and a layover did nothing to slow Viktor down. Makkacchin was running excitedly at his master’s heels but even then, Yuuri found it difficult to see them through the throng of people, and above the heads of so many foreigners. The rain and his suitcase didn’t help much either. “W-Wait!”

He briefly lost sight of Viktor before someone grabbed his hand, jerking him forward. Viktor’s face appeared in front of him suddenly, too close, too quickly and his heart seized momentarily. “Be careful, Yuuri. Now come ON!”

He didn’t even have time to process the hand-holding before Viktor flagged down a taxi, bundling Yuuri and Makkacchin in the back and the luggage into the boot. The driver – a large, solid built man with a scarily trimmed moustache – turned and asked Yuuri something in Russian as Viktor grappled with the suitcases. Yuuri tried to remember the English he had learnt in Detroit, but it had been a while since he used it. “ _E-eh…s-sorry, I d-don’t really s-speak…um…”_

_How the hell do you say Russian in English?!_

Viktor laughed as he slid into the vehicle and replied for him. The driver nodded and the car started moving.

Yuuri let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Viktor smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for coming with me.” Makkacchin whined quietly and Viktor threaded his hands in his fur, petting him absentmindedly like he always did. He turned his attention to the window and Yuuri didn’t miss the nostalgia on his face.

As much as the Russian said he loved Japan and Hasetsu, it was probably inevitable that he got homesick at some point.

Feeling slightly guilty now, Yuuri also looked out the window on his side of the car, wiping the fog off the glass with his sleeve.

For a while, it was just road until more buildings came into view. Though it was dark and rainy, the city around them still pulsed with life. Soft yellow light spilled out from tall, classic buildings onto the cobblestone pathways, helped along by the elegant, arching lamp posts that adorned every street corner. People meandered about, despite the time; there was the occasional bike bell, a sudden soundbite of raucous, drunken laughter as the door to a pub was open and closed, the murmuring of the conversation of the masses as their umbrellas bumped and prodded to wherever they wanted to go. And the rain steadily pitter pattered through it all.

It felt like he was in a completely different world.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked softly, his voice bringing Yuuri slowly out of his reverie.

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed, distantly. “It’s lovely. I’ve spent most of my life in Hasetsu which,” he says with a little laugh. “Is nothing like this. Neither is Detroit. St. Petersburg is very pretty,” he said, truthfully.

Viktor smiled delightedly at him and the way the gentle glow of the city lights caught and casted dark shadows on his face made Yuuri’s breathless for a second. “I’m glad you like it.” Viktor said, his voice low.

Yuuri’s heart sped up and he merely adjusted his glasses and murmured a sound of assent before turning back to admire the urban scenery. They settled into a comfortable silence as the car ride wore on and Yuuri found himself drifting off.

He woke as Viktor shook him awake lightly. “We’re here.”

Sitting up quickly, he got off the car, saying a quick thank you to the taxi driver who just stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. Grabbing his suitcase, he ran after Viktor and Makkacchin who had already entered the building.

Viktor’s flat was a lot more…normal than he thought it would be. It was wide and spacious and very inviting. Yuuri wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was expecting. He thought Viktor would have a gigantic moose skull hanging in his living room, or glitter thrown everywhere or something equally outlandish – it seemed to fit his image somehow. But instead, there was just simple, tasteful furniture and décor.

Makkacchin was especially thrilled, bounding up and down the apartment, barking excitedly.

“So…this is home. As you can see, Makkacchin’s very excited to be back,” Viktor chuckled, setting his suitcase down and hanging his coat up. “It’s not much but it’ll do, I think.”

“O-Oh! No, it’s beautiful. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Viktor waved away the thanks easily. “Nonsense, especially since you and your family take care of me so well. Here, let me show you to your room-“

He set Yuuri up in the guestroom, conveniently across the hall from Viktor’s. It was at least double the size of his room in Yu-topia, eliciting a few seconds of shame from the Japanese before he refound his pride. Unpacking minimally, he changed into more comfortable clothes before making his way back out.

Viktor was in the kitchen, clattering away. He had changed too; he usually wore the inn robes in Japan and Yuuri took a few seconds to appreciate this unseen sight, the dips and curves of Viktor’s exposed arms and the ripple of muscle under his tight, grey shirt as he tensed and moved. His eyes drifted southwards, admiring the lilting arch of his waist and back and, as baggy as Viktor’s sweatpants are, he could still make out the distinct outline of-

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images his very overactive imagination were sending him.

_God, Yuuri, you’re not some horny teenager anymore so get it together. And stop being so fucking creepy all the time!_

“Yuuri?” His eyes snapped open to Viktor’s concerned face. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes!” He responded quickly before his eyes landed on the pot in Viktor’s hand. “Oh! Are you cooking? Let me help-“

“It’s fine,” Viktor interrupted, gesturing to a chair. “Sit, sit. I picked up some chicken soup at the airport while you were getting the luggage so I’m just heating it up right now. Sorry I can’t offer you more, at the moment. I’m afraid my house is rather bare and my cooking skills are no match for Katsuki-san’s,” he laughs, airily.

Yuuri hesitates for a moment before sitting. Viktor hums quietly, moving back and forth in the kitchen. His movements are smooth and graceful and Yuuri suddenly realises exactly how mesmerising Viktor is, on and off the ice. Viktor must have found his Eros and Agape so easily – his every gesture is an alluring mix of both; tempting in the most innocent way possible.

 _…Stop it._ That small voice in his head said. _You’re just hurting yourself._

And this time, he couldn’t find it in him to disagree.

Viktor turned around, looking a little conflicted. “It seems all I have is pasta. Do you like pasta, Yuuri?” he asked, an interested shine glinting in his eyes.

The question caught him off guard. “Um…I can’t really say. I don’t eat it very often. I think I only had it once, maybe twice in Detroit. It didn’t make much of an impression on me though?”

“Hmm…” Viktor stared at the packet in his hand, looking vaguely troubled before he shrugged, pouring half of it into the simmering soup cheerfully. He added a few shakes of pepper, a few pinches of some herbs and turned down the heat, stirring. “So Yuuri,” he says over his shoulder. “Tell me more about Detroit.”

Yuuri blinked in surprise then replied carefully. “There’s…not a lot to talk about.”

“You spent five years there! I’m sure something interesting happened,” Viktor pressed gently.

Yuuri was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, I definitely made friends. A few people from around Detroit but…mainly Phichit-kun from Thailand,” he glanced up at Victor. “Maybe you know him? Anyway, him…Coach Celestino too, I guess. Kind of. Does he count?” He laughed wryly. “But mostly I just trained. Generally, I was at the rink, with Coach or…sometimes just by myself. I knew had to practise a _lot_ if I wanted to make it internationally.” Yuuri scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t pay off though.”

Viktor paused, a sad look touching his eyes before his easy-going smile slid back on. “Well, it’s not all bad. You got to meet me, didn’t you?” He winked and Yuuri’s brain stuttered to halt for a second before it rebooted.

He pressed his hands against his cheeks, a half smile finding its way unbidden onto his face. “Don’t say such embarrassing things, Viktor.”

“Hehe…Oh, oops, looks like the pasta’s done.” Viktor scrambled to turn the fire off as the soup suddenly started popping and bubbling dangerously. Ladling it into two bowls, Viktor set it down in front of Yuuri before settling down next to him, handing him a spoon.

“Thank you.” Yuuri looked at the dish a little warily, unsure of where to start. He had never heard of pasta in _soup_ before.

Viktor smiled at his hesitance. “It’s very nice, I promise. Even _I_ can’t screw up such a simple dish.”

“N-No! It smells great! I’m sure it’s delicious. I’ve just…never seen pasta in soup before.”

“Never seen stelline pasta before, huh? Don’t worry, it’s meant to be eaten like this. Go on then, give it a try.”

Yuuri felt Viktor’s gaze as he spooned a little in his mouth, blowing gently first. His eyes widened a fraction. “This tastes so good!”

The Russian relaxed, digging in himself. “I’m glad you think so! It’s so good on a cold day or if you’re sick. This Italian skater I used to train with showed me how to make it and I loved it because I mean, look at the stars!”

Yuuri looked a little more carefully at the pasta and realised that they were, indeed, little stars and he stared in awe. “I thought pasta was just like…noodles and those shell things.”

“Right?! The fanciest pasta I knew back then was that bow-shaped one. You know the one that’s green sometimes? But then I found out there were sooo many different kinds and each of them go well with different sauces and different cooking methods and-” Viktor sighed dramatically. “Skating naked would probably be easier than memorising all the different combinations.”

Instantly, a very inappropriate image leapt to the front of Yuuri’s mind and he choked a little. “V-Viktor!” he said, coughing.

“What?” he asked innocently. “It’s true!”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri muttered, feeling the warmth crawl up his neck and kept his eyes trained on the food in front of him and brain focused on the bowl to mouth movement.

Viktor just laughed.

Yuuri insisted on cleaning up after they finished, much to the chagrin of Viktor’s impeccable manners, and in the end, they compromised, with Yuuri doing the dishes and Viktor set to wiping duty. By then, it was nearing 11pm and the jet lag was starting to affect the both of them.

“Hmm…” Viktor said, glancing at the clock. “We should probably sleep.”

Makkacchin had long since retired to the couch, curled tightly and sound asleep.

Yuuri yawned by means of a response, the heavy warmth of his stomach making him sleepier than he already was. “Mm…I slept so much on the plane but I’m still tired,” he said, a little grumpily. “What time should I be up tomorrow?”

Viktor chuckled softly. “Let’s just take it easy for the first day, yes? Although we do need to do a little shopping tomorrow.” He stifled a sigh and Yuuri saw his amicability slip briefly under his tiredness. It was so easy for him to idolise him, to put him on a pedestal as this untouchable perfection, to take that amiable, soothing façade at face value that sometimes, he forgot that Viktor was human too.

Just like him.

The thought of The Great Viktor Nikiforov being the same as him made him giggle quietly and Viktor looked at him, bemused.

“Something funny? Is there something on my face?” His hands promptly leapt to his cheeks, feeling around.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go to bed.”

“Hmm…okay…” Viktor eyed him suspiciously but said nothing, whistling softly at Makkacchin who bounded over, following his master obediently as they both made their way to their respective rooms.

Yuuri paused outside of his door. “Viktor,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

He looked a little confused and cocked his head curiously, his silver hair falling out of his face. “You’re…welcome?”

“I think I like pasta now,” Yuuri said, smiling. Goodnight, Viktor.”

Viktor beamed. “I’m glad I changed your mind. Night, Yuuri. Sweet dreams.”

He had to close the door quickly before Viktor saw the explosion of red that was his face. Leaning his forehead against the door, he let out a slow breath.

It had only been two hours and a dinner in Russia and they were already starting to be so… _domestic._

Sighing, he trudged over to the soft, inviting bed and slid under the covers. He could deal with that tomorrow. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep. As soon as he sunk into the mattress, he felt the liberating tug of his eyelids and he cocooned himself in the blanket. The bed smelled faintly of Viktor and, surrounded by his favourite person’s scent, Yuuri found it very easy to slip into a very sweet dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaah!! Nothing much happens here but I swear more happens after this. I wrote this on and off over multiple nights/mornings so there might be some grammar or spelling or expression mistakes. I'm very sorry for that!!
> 
> Not sure when I'll update because I'm sitting my matriculation exams at the moment, but if interest is high enough, hopefully soon. 
> 
> Have a lovely day everyone!


End file.
